Deathworld. Harry Harrison
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out of one pocket. He flipped through it quickly and dropped a handful of gleaming Galactic Exchange notes onto the table. Jason glanced at them — then sat up suddenly.
"What are they — forgeries?" he asked, holding one up to the light.
"They're real enough," Kerk told him, "I picked them up at the bank. Exactly twenty-seven bills — or twenty-seven million credits. I want you to use them as a bankroll when you go to the Casino tonight. Gamble with them and win."
They looked real enough — and they could be checked. Jason fingered them thoughtfully while he examined the other man.
"I don't know what you have in mind," he said. "But you realize I can't make any guarantees. I gamble — but I don't always win ..."
"You gamble — and you win when you want to," Kerk said grimly. "We looked into that quite carefully before I came to you."
"If you mean to say that I cheat — " Carefully, Jason grabbed his temper again and held it down. There was no future in getting annoyed.
Kerk continued in the same level voice, ignoring Jason's growing anger. "Maybe you don't call it cheating, frankly I don't care. As far as I'm concerned you could have your suit lined with aces and electromagnets in your boots. As long as you won. I'm not here to discuss moral points with you. I said I had a proposition.
"We have worked hard for that money — but it still isn't enough. To be precise, we need three billion credits. The only way to get that sum is by gambling — with these twenty-seven million as bankroll."
"And what do I get out of it?" Jason asked the question coolly, as if any bit of the fantastic proposition made sense.
"Everything above the three billion you can keep, that should be fair enough. You're not risking your own money, but you stand to make enough to keep you for life if you win."
"And if I lose — ?"
Kerk thought for a moment, not liking the taste of the idea. "Yes — there is the chance you might lose, I hadn't thought about that."
He reached a decision. "If you lose — well I suppose that is just a risk we will have to take. Though I think I would kill you then. The ones who died to get the twenty-seven million deserve at least that." He said it quietly, without malice, and it was more of a promise than a threat.
Stamping to his feet Jason refilled his stein and offered one to Kerk who took it with a nod of thanks. He paced back and forth, unable to sit. The whole proposition made him angry — yet at the same time had a fatal fascination. He was a gambler and this talk was like the taste of drugs to an addict.
Stopping suddenly, he realized that his mind had been made up for some time. Win or lose — live or die — how could he say no to the chance to gamble with money like that! He turned suddenly and jabbed his finger at the big man in the chair.
"I'll do it — you probably knew I would from the time you came in here. There are some terms of my own, though. I want to know who you are, and who they are you keep talking about. And where did the money come from. Is it stolen?"
Kerk drained his own stein and pushed it away from him.
"Stolen money? No, quite the opposite. Two years' work mining and refining ore to get it. It was mined on Pyrrus and sold here on Cassylia. You can check on that very easily. I sold it. I'm the Pyrric ambassador to this planet." He smiled at the thought. "Not that that means much, I'm ambassador to at least six other planets as well. Comes in handy when you want to do business."
Jason looked at the muscular man with his gray hair and worn, military-cut clothes, and decided not to laugh. You heard of strange things out in the frontier planets and every word could be true. He had never heard of Pyrrus either, though that didn't mean anything. There were over thirty-thousand known planets in the inhabited universe.
"I'll check on what you have told me," Jason said. "If it's true, we can do business. Call me tomorrow — "
"No," Kerk said. "The money has to be won tonight. I've already issued a check for this twenty-seven million, it will bounce as high as the Pleiades unless we deposit the money in the morning, so that's our time limit."
With each moment the whole affair became more fantastic — and more intriguing for Jason. He looked at his watch. There was still enough time to find out if Kerk was lying or not.
"All right, we'll do it tonight," he said. "Only I'll have to have one of those bills to check."
Kerk stood up to go. "Take them all, I won't be seeing you again until after you've won. I'll be at the Casino of course, but don't recognize me. It would be much better if they didn't know where your money was coming from or how much you had."
Then he was gone, after a bone-crushing handclasp that closed on Jason's hand like vise jaws. Jason was alone with the money. Fanning the bills out like a hand of cards he stared at their sepia and gold faces, trying to get the reality through his head. Twenty-seven million credits. What was to stop him from just walking out the door with them and vanishing. Nothing really, except his own sense of honor.
Kerk Pyrrus, the man with the same last name as the planet he came from, was the universe's biggest fool. Or he knew just what he was doing. From the way the interview had gone the latter seemed the better bet.
"He knows I would much rather gamble with the money than steal it," he said wryly.
Slipping a small gun into his waistband holster and pocketing the money he went out.
II
The robot teller at the bank just pinged with electronic shock when he presented one of the bills and flashed a panel that directed him to see Vice President Wain. Wain was a smooth customer who bugged his eyes and lost some of his tan when he saw the sheaf of bills.
"You ... wish to deposit these with us?" he asked while his fingers unconsciously stroked them.
"Not today," Jason said. "They were paid to me as a debt. Would you please check that they are authentic and change them? I'd like five hundred thousand credit notes."
Both of his inner chest pockets were packed tight when he left the bank. The bills were good and he felt like a walking mint. This was the first time in his entire life that carrying a large sum of money made him uncomfortable. Waving to a passing helicab he went directly to the Casino, where he knew he would be safe — for a while.
Cassylia Casino was the playspot of the nearby cluster of star systems. It was the first time Jason had seen it, though he knew its type well. He had spent most of his adult life in casinos like this on other worlds. The decor differed but they were always the same. Gambling and socialities in public — and behind the scenes all the private vice you could afford. Theoretically no-limit games, but that was true only up to a certain point. When the house was really hurt the honest games stopped being square and the big winner had to watch his step very carefully. These were the odds Jason dinAlt had played against countless times before. He was wary but not very concerned.
The dining room was almost empty and the major-domo quickly rushed to the side of the relaxed stranger in the richly cut clothes. Jason was lean and dark, looking more like the bored scion of some rich family than a professional gambler. This appearance was important and he cultivated it. The cuisine looked good and the cellar turned out to be wonderful. He had a professional talk with the sommelier while waiting for the soup, then settled down to enjoy his meal.
He ate leisurely and the large dining room was filled before he was through. Watching the entertainment over a long cigar killed some more time. When he finally went to the gaming rooms they were filled and active.
Moving slowly around the room he dropped a few thousand credits. He scarcely noticed how he played, giving more attention to the feel of the games. The play all seemed honest and none of the equipment was rigged. That could be changed very quickly,